If Nargles Could Talk
by Maleday
Summary: Luna's late night hunt for Nargles leads her straight to Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is for round 6 of Lamia's Test Your Limit's Competition. Prompts used: _Shadow of the Day_ by Linkin Park and the word "nuzzle."

Thanks for reading and enjoy!

* * *

**Nargle Hunting**

For the past several weeks, a terrific batch of Nargles had been disturbing the shores around the Black Lake at night, and Luna wasn't about to let it slide.

Sure, Hogwarts was pretty much infested with the devious buggers by now; she'd been letting her guard slip since the Carrows arrived, wreaking more havoc than a pack of a thousand Nargles ever could.

Nargles were everywhere, whirling through the halls, gliding around the pillars, and swirling above the students' beds. To Luna, it seemed they multiplied by the second, and for the first time in her entire remembrance, she was completely overwhelmed.

The Black Lake was the last straw, though. What business do Nargles have bringing their mischief to the somber, unsuspecting shore? She hoped they were not tormenting the Thestrals when they came out to drink. But what else would draw the twirling devils so far from the castle?

Luna had been intending to find out, and, tired as she was from Nargle chasing within the castle, she knew she couldn't delay the trip any longer. Besides, she hadn't seen the Thestrals since the start of the term. A visit was long overdue.

Resolutely, Luna slipped out of the Ravenclaw tower and scurried lightly on her bare feet through the castle and out onto the greyish-black grounds.

The sun now vanished from the sky, Draco's eyes shifted to the edge of the wood and watched with passive disinterest as a group of Thestrals slowly creeped out and began to drink their fill from the lake.

Lately, his eyes followed anything that moved. His real vision was much further within himself, trapped in memories and fear. As with every time he saw the creatures, his thoughts were on Dumbledore and that fateful night at the end of last term. He resisted the urge to turn and look back towards the tomb of the late headmaster. Instead, he stared ahead at the shiny wings of the Thestrals, now glistening with less sunlight than moonlight.

Draco's vision refocused when a figure half floated, half danced down the slope, right past where he was sitting and straight to the shoreline of the lake. Her hair fluttered behind her, wavy and waist-length, making her identity annoyingly obvious. Draco cringed and slunk his shoulders closer to the ground, hoping he'd stay unnoticed.

Luna walked straight into the icy water, letting her bare feet sink into the soft sand. She loved this thrilling pain of cold, how it woke her up and gave her life. She lifted her skirt up to her knees and waded deeper, all the while walking towards the group of Thestrals. She learned in first year that as long as she approached them from the direction they were facing, they wouldn't scare away.

She gently reached out and stroked the Thestral nearest her and allowed the leathery beast to nuzzle her ear with his wet muzzle before lowering his head back to the water.

Draco watched the girl's slow and graceful movements as she waded out of the lake, dragging her hands across the backs of the two Thestrals nearest her. She looked eerie, with the moonlight in her ridiculously long hair, and the wind blowing it softly about her body.

For a second, Draco almost equated her to some animal charming goddess. That is, before she bent over and picked up a piece of driftwood. She then closed her eyes and walked forward, clinging onto the wood with both hands and waving in it front of her as if clearing a path through the pure night air.

Though stumbling around blindly, Draco was quite certain that she was progressively nearing him. He suspected she'd seen him and promptly straightened up and looked away across the lake. Maybe if he stayed perfectly still, she'd mind her own business.

He tried to convince himself he was still alone, that there was no deranged girl on the beach. It was a fact he could no longer deny when the driftwood practically smacked him in the face.

"Watch it!" he yelped. He reached out to snatch away the branch, but the girl was quicker, despite her still closed eyes.

"Draco Malfoy," she said with a small smile, "I should have known."

Her eyes opened and landed directly on Draco's, startling him. He looked away quickly, hoping against hope that she'd realize she was out of her league, that batty witches don't talk to Malfoys.

Couldn't she see he wanted to be alone?

Luna cocked her head at the Slytherin sitting straight and looking stoically ahead. She was sure every hair on his back was standing erect, afraid of her looming above him. Little did he know that the Nargles enveloping him in a grey cloud were beginning to fade away. Well, at least she could make this process more comfortable for the proud Malfoy.

She purposefully placed the driftwood down beside Draco before sitting neatly on the other side of it. Draco gave it one glance before shooting her a horrified glare, to which she gave her best comforting smile.

"Oh, don't worry. It's just absorbing the Nargles," she explained. "Utterly painless."

Draco let his head drop. Of all the people who could have found his go-to place, it had to be _her_.

"Nargles aren't real," Draco replied half-heartedly. He wasn't in the mood to argue with insanity itself. He wondered if she would simply follow him if he got up and moved to a different spot. He decided it wasn't worth the effort to find out. Besides, he was here first. If anyone should leave, it was her.

"Then why do I see them all around you?" Luna asked, her voice airy and distant.

"Because you're bonkers. Go away and take your delusions with you," Draco snapped.

"You think you know me?" she asked, less offense and more amusement in her tone.

Draco's eyes narrowed and he turned to look at her.

"Of course, I know you. You're Loony Lovegood. The joke of Ravenclaw and the defender of all things imaginary. You and your family is an embarrassment to the pureblood lines. You're father runs the lunatic Quibbler that is only kept in business by profits from your mother's potion inventions. Oh, and your mother wasn't the brightest herself-"

Draco stopped himself from continuing for no reason other than he didn't particularly feel like being cruel to the girl. Her sanity was the issue, not her sob story.

Luna merely shrugged, still meeting Draco's eyes with such intensity that he was forced to look away.

"Nothing I haven't heard before," she commented. She'd heard the same old, same old every day of her life it seemed. Though perhaps not with such a mean spirit. However, Luna knew Draco's Nargles were causing his anger. He really couldn't be blamed.

She reached over and turned the driftwood, hoping it could attract more of the Nargles away from him. He looked so miserable.

"You don't care?" Draco asked, before he could stop himself. Was he really going to contribute to a conversation with her?

"No," Luna responded with another shrug. She leaned forward into a passing breeze and took in a deep breath of air through her nose. "It's so beautiful here. I can see why you come every night."

"How do you know that?" Draco asked with a frown, alarmed that she'd been actually stalking him for longer than just recently with a piece of wood.

"The Nargles!" she answered, as though it were the most obvious explanation.

"Of course," Draco muttered, rubbing his head in his hands. "Now will you please go away?"

Luna gave Draco a curious look from the corner of her eye. The way he sat with his shoulders both stiff and weighed down made him seem entirely oppressed by Nargles, despite the fact that they were slowly dissipating into her enchanted driftwood Nargle trap. With all the other Nargles in the castle, it was no wonder he came out here every night. Somewhere in Luna's heart, she felt a surge of pity for the Malfoy. Although she herself had never carried more than one or two Nargles at once, she could empathize with the pain of Draco's uninvited load.

"It must feel nice, getting away from the castle," she commented. While her voice sounded as distant as it always had, her head was cocked to the side and her eyes keyed in on Draco's.

Draco tensed, immediately wondering if she guessed his disdain for what the Carrows were doing to Hogwarts, despite the "privileges" granted the Slytherins. As much as he tried to force himself to take pleasure in the new situation, Draco could not feel anything but disgust at the siblings. The Carrows were nothing more than idiots. Careless, destructive idiots.

"I don't come here to escape. There is… nothing wrong with Hogwarts," Draco said, choosing his words carefully. He couldn't let her keep the impression that he was running away like a scared child from the dark.

Luna sighed.

"Draco, one of the perks about being considered loony is that people are always honest with me. No one cares what I say, so if I tell anyone, it doesn't matter. You can tell my anything."

The Malfoy inside of Draco instantly let out a bark of laughter. Why would he want to talk to Loony Lovegood? What could he possibly say that she would understand outside of all her imaginations?

After his initial reaction, however, his thoughts were frozen when he caught her steady gaze on him. She was listening, not to the Malfoy part of him, but to something deeper. Something resonated within him and cried out to be heard with a voice Draco had buried so far down, he'd completely forgot it existed.

She was right. The outrageous things suddenly fighting to escape him would be ignored by everyone if she were ever to repeat them. No one would believe a Lovegood. So why not speak?

Luna watched as Draco's face turned solemn and his eyes met hers, filled with a swirling tornado of reflecting Nargles. He opened his mouth.

"I come here to watch the sunset," he said as though it were a confession. "It's the only time of day that isn't shadowed in grey. When I'm here, I don't have to torture people. I don't have to watch the Dark Lord's most daft followers and remember that I am one of them."

Draco paused to lift his sleeve and reveal the edge of the dark mark that blackened his forearm. Then he looked back at Luna, nervous that he may have said too much. But Luna's eyes were still on his face, searching. She didn't even glance down at his arm.

"The sun set already," she pointed out.

"I stay to watch the Thestrals," he admitted in a low voice. As of yet, he hadn't even realized why he stayed on the beach so late.

"Beautiful creatures," Luna hummed, looking over at the beasts that were slowly retreating back to the woods.

"Oblivious," Draco added. That was why he liked them so much. No matter how much pain surrounded the creatures, they didn't notice. Even when they relied on pain to be seen.

"Nargle-free," Luna agreed.

"What is it with you and Nargles?" Draco asked, slightly annoyed. Mostly, he was tired. He didn't understand the relief he was feeling at having admitted so little to a girl who obviously wasn't a hundred percent.

Luna twirled her hair as she contemplated the question. Why was she so intent on keeping Nargles far away? She never thought of a reason for it, it just seemed like common sense. If a Nargle causes distress, of course you want it gone! Unfortunately, she knew very well that this would be lost on someone who didn't even believe in the existence of Nargles.

Sighing, she shifted to sit on her legs and face Draco, still safely on the other side of the driftwood. He gave her a wary look, but didn't back away as her hands rose and reached behind her neck, brushing her hair to the side. In one swift move, she pulled off her Butterbeer cork necklace and lunged forward, capturing Draco's neck in it. It was clasped before he could jerk away.

"Are you crazy?!" Draco yelled, springing to his feet and trying to rip the necklace off. It was no use, the thing seemed unbreakable

Luna just grinned at the incensed Slytherin.

"You need it more than I," she said, before flouncing away, up the hill towards the castle.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson noticed an improvement in Draco's moodiness right away. He actually woke up in time for breakfast and even asked a question in Herbology. Admittedly, it was a snide, rhetorical question, but still. Draco was showing an interest in his surroundings. She could swear she'd even seen him almost smile to himself at one point.

Draco would be the first to deny this change. If he were to recognize how his step felt ever so slightly lighter or how his mind didn't wonder quite so often to the Astronomy Tower incident or the wretched summer, he would be assigning value to the ridiculous necklace made of garbage that he unwillingly wore everywhere.

The only thing he wanted to thank Luna for was not placing an anti-invisibility charm on the thing. He'd have had a hell of a time explaining _that _to people.

No, Draco Malfoy would never admit that sometimes, he fingered the individual cork caps along the necklace and remembered the intensity in the eyes of the odd girl with long hair. He did do this though, almost every time the Carrows crossed his path or his memory became too active.

But even Draco couldn't deny his disappointment when Luna did not show up at the Black Lake the next night.

Luna was surprised when the days passed and still, even without her necklace she hadn't attracted any more Nargles than normal. She wondered if it maybe weren't as powerful as she'd thought. She hoped that wasn't the case, for Draco's sake.

Thinking of him, she kept a look out on the Black Lake at night, watching for a dangerous surplus of Nargles. Each night didn't show anything as drastic as the day she'd met Draco there, though, and so she kept her distance. Hogwarts needed her attention more than the Malfoy. Right?

Luna's mind often wondered to the night by the beach and to the boy so bogged down with Nargles that even his angry voice fell flat with sorrow and stress. She wondered if he'd found a spell to remove the necklace. Whenever she pictured the look on his face as he realized it was charmed un-removable, she couldn't hold back her self-satisfied grin. So she thought of it often, because grinning is one of the best Nargle-be-gone tricks.

Draco Malfoy had every right to be miserable. To be a Death Eater with no appetite for death would be a prison that Luna didn't particularly want to consider. She was, after all, trying to keep Nargles away. Thoughts like that would only invite them near.

However, the plight of the Slytherin boy crossed her mind so much that she was debating giving up on de-Nargle-ing Hogwarts in order to focus more on him. There must be _something_ that could be done to free him from his situation.

It was with practical glee that one night she discovered a batch of Nargles by the lake worthy of immediate disbanding. Within minutes, she was seated beside the peroxide haired boy, watching as the sun ducked under the lake, splaying colors across it like a blanket.

"You found me without wagging a stick around," Draco finally said, having ignored her original greeting with no more than a nod.

Luna smiled and shook her head, but made no retort. They both turned towards the woods to wait for the Thestrals to arrive.

"Why'd you come?" Draco asked, his voice much softer than Luna expected. She looked at him curiously and found a vulnerability she also hadn't expected.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, guessing at the underlying question.

Draco scoffed, but did not deny it.

"You have an extraordinary amount of Nargles swarming around you," she informed him. "I want to help."

Draco's brow furrowed and his face darkened even compared to the grey of the night.

"Dumbledore said that, too. Just before he died."

Luna smiled at Draco comfortingly and placed her hand, open palmed, on her knee.

Draco looked down at the offered hand, then back at her warm, practically Dumbledore-like, twinkling eyes. He'd refused once, and look where he was now. Haunted by the death and surrounded, apparently, by Nargles. What's the worst that could happen?

Tentatively, Draco raised his hand and set it gently in the ultra-soft open palm.

Draco had nothing to lose.


	2. Turn Around

**A/N: **The prompt was to write a character coming to the light side, so that is shown through Draco's decision in this chapter. Also there's something about sharks snuck in for a prompt.

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**Turn Around**

Instead of the lively celebration Halloween usually brought to Hogwarts, the Carrows used the holiday as an excuse to inspire more fear into the hearts of the students. Many of them marked it down as the day overnight detentions were invented. Still others recorded it as the day of the first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of hallucinogenic torture. The most unlucky ones remembered both.

To Luna, it was the day the Nargles completely took over the school. No matter where she went, a pack of them surrounded just about everyone. She could tell by all the slumped shoulders, a sure sign of Nargles hitchhiking on the backs of their victims. The glazed looks and droopy eyes gave it away as well. Nargles were notorious for fogging the vision with their constant swarming about the head. Naturally, this made chatter challenging as well, which in turn made the Great Hall thick with somber silence.

The quiet could also have been due to the alarming number of teenage wizards who apparently lacked any appetite. Another effect caused by Nargles, Luna concluded. She proceeded to drive herself to nausea by attempting to count the number of whirling devils that seemed to bury alive the few students remaining at the Ravenclaw table.

Sick to her stomach, Luna sprung up from her seat and scurried out of the Great Hall without having touched her meal. Not even the candied apples could convince her to stay.

Only one pair of eyes bothered to look up at the distressed girl making a hasty exit. Most kept their eyes on the depressing feast, slowly rotating their forks around and around their plates in a mindless rhythm.

Draco Malfoy was seated at the only table where cutlery was actively moving from plate to mouth, and the clinking and clanking of it was giving him a resounding headache. If only he could flee the scene as unnoticed as Lovegood could. Though, judging by the way she was holding her stomach and the color of her face, he guessed he wasn't the worst off.

Every so often a fellow Slytherin would look up, smirk, and launch into an unsolicited story about the day's professor-endorsed brutalizing. Draco wished he could say the stories were getting old, that they weren't changing day by day. But they were. The more desensitized the Slytherins became, the more and more horrifying their stories grew.

And of course, they weren't just stories.

Twisting an invisible cork on the loop around his neck, Draco carefully schooled his features into a mask of petulant boredom. He knew as long as he kept up the pretense, his status could be maintained without having to participate excessively in the violence. Appearing aloof somehow even gave him a higher standing than the seventh year boys most eager to inflict pain, regardless of his father's disgrace among the Death Eaters.

Sometimes, though, it seemed as though the stories worsened as a deliberate attempt to elicit some reaction from Draco. Perhaps some sick competition amongst his peers to be the first to "impress" him. The thought nagged at Draco's mind, contributing to the pile of guilt he stored away. Was it his impassiveness that inspired the cruelty? Was he the reason the second year girl Cierra Flick was _Crutiated_?

Though he pretended to not be listening, each story weighed on him like … like a Nargle. Yes, he'd been spending way too much time with Lovegood.

And yet, the evening couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

Around the time of the traditional Hogsmeade trip (which did not occur), Luna stopped counting the Nargles. She stopped rummaging through bins for old Butterbeer corks to later string up around the castle. She stopped collecting driftwood and slipping them under tables and chairs. There were simply too many Nargles and too few Lovegoods at Hogwarts.

Instead, Luna lurked down to the lake every night and sat by the Nargle-infested Malfoy as the sun crept away and the Thestrals slunk out of the forest. When the boy could breathe again with ease and hold his own shoulders back, she'd stand, wish him goodnight, and float away.

At least, she used to float. Lately Draco had been noticing more and more times when her bare feet made solid contact with the ground. Her hair, though still entrancing, seemed to fly a little less freely. And was it just him, or was she not holding her eyebrows as high on her brow as normal?

Perhaps she had some Nargles of her own?

Draco mentally slapped the thought from his brain. He'd _definitely _spent too long listening to the girl's Nargle jargon. Besides, why should he care if she was not acting quite as strange as she normally did? He was supposed to care about nothing…

"So, what imaginary creature is eating _you_," Draco asked Luna the next night with an appraising glance. He couldn't stop himself. The girl had sighed. _Sighed_. _Luna Lovegood_.

"Same as you," she responded with an uncharacteristic shrug, "I've got a Nargle on my back that I can't shake off. Maybe I'll beat it tonight."

"_You, _Miss Nargle Slayer, have one yourself?" Draco scoffed in mock horror. He didn't realize why he'd said that until the chiming of Luna's laughter sounded out. _That_ was why. He could fall asleep to that sound and not wake up until the war ended, he was sure.

Draco waited all the while until the Thestrals settled into the lake to drink, and still Luna did not elaborate.

"Don't you have to have worries in order to attract a Nargle?" he asked softly so as not to break the silence into too many pieces. He quickly added, "or something like that," so she wouldn't think he listened all that closely to her crazed Nargle talk.

She fixed her blue eyes on him, as she always did before speaking.

"Mm," she confirmed, "My father is the writer, editor, and publisher of _The Quibbler_."

It sounded like the "my father is…" phrase Draco used all the time, until last year. The familiarity made him flinch, as did the meaning, once it sunk in.

Xenophilius Lovegood ran the last remaining public media source not controlled by the Dark Lord. He was taking a huge risk, no doubt larger than he realized.

Luna's eyes were glistening.

Draco looked away.

"No offense, but I'm sure the Dark Lord has more important things to worry about than that absurd magazine. _The Quibbler_ is hardly a threat to him," he said, making a concerted effort to sound as sure as he wasn't.

Despite the dis, Luna let Draco's words soak in and in no time, she was Nargle-free again. Thrilled, she shook out her newly loose shoulders before grasping Draco into a quick hug.

* * *

Draco was torn in two.

A part of him was acutely aware of the keen look his housemates were using to scrutinize him. He was showing emotion for the first time that term, and he looked afraid. If he didn't get his mask on in five seconds, he would lose his status among them. He would lose everything. They would understand that it wasn't that he was so strong that nothing impressed him, it was that he was so weak that he avoided everything, even feeling.

Another part of him was gaping through the train window at the back of the bundled up witch standing on the train platform and thinking, _begging_: _"Turn around. Now." _

If Luna boarded the train, she'd be captured. Theodore Nott had just boasted of this, himself watching Luna with bright, greedy eyes. He wanted to watch the girl as she walked into her trap, believing she is safe and happy to be headed home.

Luna's hair cascaded out from beneath her scarf and down her back. It swished aside the fresh snow that had just landed on her shoulders when she took a step towards the door of the train.

Draco sprang from his seat like a tiger from a tree.

* * *

By the first snowfall of the season, Luna was sure Nargles outnumbered the wizarding population of Hogwarts fifty to one, though she wasn't at all keeping track. The fact that so many students had returned home and left Hogwarts was only making the ratio more extreme. The incessantly multiplying creatures circled around the remaining students like sharks about their prey, and the disbelieving students had no idea.

Luna desperately needed the holiday break. She knew her father had no doubt kept the house Nargle-less and for the last month she could imagine no other place in the world she'd rather be. Well, maybe by the lake.

She did wonder how Draco would manage over the Christmas vacation, and he seemed to be wondering as well, based on the amount of Nargles he'd been attracting. There was no point in dwelling on it, though. Especially not here on the train platform where there was absolutely nothing she could do. She'd see him soon enough. She just really needed to go home.

She stepped forward to board the Hogwart's Express, making a clean, neat footprint in the snow.

"Luna, no! Wait!" came a call from a voice she'd never heard quite so pure.


	3. Capture

Chapter 3

Draco grasped Luna's arm and dragged her out of view of the Slytherins watching incredulously from their compartment. At the sudden tug, Luna lost her footing on the snowy platform, but Draco kept her from falling by spinning her around and bracing her back against the wall of the train.

"Don't get on the train," Draco blurted breathlessly before Luna had the chance to so much as blink at her sudden new standpoint. "Death Eaters are coming for you."

Draco expected her eyes to flash with some sign of fear at his dramatic foretelling, but she merely stared stoically back at him with an ever so slight furrow of her brow. She didn't flinch or withdraw at all.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head. The question was so unexpected that it took Draco a moment to remember the answer.

"To have control over The Quibbler."

"But I thought you said You-Know-Who had more to worry about than—"

"I know what I said, Luna! Listen to what I'm saying now. Go back to the castle."

The train whistle blew for the first time, startling Draco and reminding him of his immediate problem. He needed to get back on the train and figure out something to tell Nott and the others that wouldn't make them think that he'd just rescued Loony Lovegood and thwarted the Dark Lord's plan. He could not afford that. Not now as he was about to go "home" to what essentially had become the Dark Lord's lair.

Draco refocused his eyes on Luna's and nodded once, giving her shoulders a firm shake in an attempt to communicate the urgency that she didn't seem to be processing. Her expression of contemplation hadn't changed in the least, as if there was a legitimate question in her mind whether or not to get on the train.

At the second blast of the train whistle, Draco released her shoulders and took an unsteady step back toward the entrance to the train. He raised his hand at Luna, both a parting gesture and a way of saying "stay."

Although still uncertain his message was being received by her, he forcefully looked away and controlled his face back into his impassive mask and hurried briskly onto the train. The door slid shut immediately and Draco fell heavily against it, listening closely for approaching footsteps through the muffled roar of the wind against the window. His breath was coming in short gasps. He was literally stuck between two competing concerns, and the force of it was squeezing him like a swarm of Nargles.

What will he tell the others? Will they disown him? Will they tell the other Death Eaters what he did? And will Luna even listen to him? Will she be safe?

At the third and final blow of the whistle, Draco stood upright and walked into the hallway. He would simply tell the others that through legilimency he discovered that Luna had decided to spend her holiday vacation growing foreign plants with Professor Sprout, and that he was trying to persuade her otherwise by threatening her father.

Yes, that sounded appropriately believable. Considering the mysterious and aloof front he'd been putting on all year, they'd believe in his fictitious power of legilimency.

There, he could breathe easier now.

A sudden chill on the back of his neck froze his breath in his throat. He whirled around to see waves of snow pouring into the entryway around a girl struggling to slide the door closed again. Luna.

Draco raced back down the hall, prepared to shove her back out into the snow, but before he reached her, the door snapped shut and the train lurched forward into motion, forcing the both of them hard against the wall.

Luna recovered first, standing calmly and beginning to brush the snow off herself. She unwrapped her scarf and removed her hat and mittens, all while Draco stared disbelievingly.

"What are you _doing_?" he hissed, unable to find his voice.

"Why I'm going home for the holidays, of course!" she answered merrily. There was, however, an obvious edge to her voice, making her sound just that much more senile.

She started past Draco but he snatched at her sleeve and forced her to stop.

"Are you deaf? I said the Death-"

Luna's eyes landed on Draco's and stopped his words. They showed acknowledgement and steady sorrow, but no fear.

"Don't be silly. I couldn't have stayed," she started to explain in an apologetic whisper, as if Draco were the one to be pitied. "Hogwarts is run by Death Eaters. I wouldn't be safe there anyway. And without me to use as leverage against Dad, they'd just go after _him_."

The obviousness of her words hit Draco hard. He was an idiot. He'd forgotten all about self-sacrifice and how it seemed to be the only thing anyone outside of Slytherin was concerned with. If he'd really wanted to protect her, he should have left her stunned in the snow on the platform. Curse his Slytherin ideals that blinded him.

Draco's shoulders dropped as he realized protesting was now pointless. The train was quickly reaching top speed and apparating from the Hogwart's Express was magically impossible. She was trapped.

"You won't even hide?" he asked in one last attempt. He tried to make his voice sound flat, as if either way, her choice didn't bother him. Who was he kidding? This was Luna and she could see Nargles.

"I'm sorry," was all she said. Her voice actually sounded conflicted and pained rather than her usual absent minded tone.

The sincerity of her apology stung in Draco's eyes. He quickly looked away and made his face as stoic as possible. He reminded himself that she knew what she was doing, she _knew_. And that's all he could do.

Yet somehow, that made it worse.

"Oi! Let her go, Malfoy!"

Draco turned to see Longbottom staring at him alarmed and fumbling in his robes for his wand. The fool will likely be hurt trying to rescue Luna from her impending capture, Draco thought bitterly.

There was nothing else to be done. Draco loosened his fingers and let go of the fabric of Luna's sleeve. He straightened up and walked away without a backward glance.

Neville blinked after the white-blonde headed Slytherin as he passed without so much as a sneer and continued down the hall in a steady stride. Even in his wildest dreams, Neville had never seen Malfoy walk away from him with such a defeated expression. And he had hardly even drawn his wand. Victory had never been so… anticlimactic.

Neville turned to find Luna beside him, staring down the hall with an expression of vague curiosity.

"What's eating _him_?" Neville asked, venomously.

"Nargles," Luna replied as if she hadn't needed to give it a single thought.

Neville shook his head to clear it. He should have known better than to ask. Luna's way of using imaginary creatures to deal with the violence and terror of the school year seemed like denial to him, and he didn't want any part of that. But still, it gave her a sort of protection and invincibility. Unlike him, she hadn't lost any energy to anger or hatred.

But now, after a closer look at her, Neville saw that Luna looked slightly tired for the first time that semester. Anger had become a norm for Neville, but he felt it flare stronger in him. Didn't Malfoy have anything better to do than torment a girl who still believed in Nargles?

"Come on. Let's get out of here," Neville suggested finally. The girl had still not moved so much as an eyelid.

"No, I think I'll wait right here, thank you," came her distant reply. She began putting on her winter wraps, as if preparing walk right off the train.

Neville looked at her nervously. Was she actually going crazy under the pressure of it all? He winced at the thought, the image of his mother handing him a candy wrapper like it was her most valuable possession played through his mind.

When Luna was all bundled up, he took a deep breath and adopted his well-practiced, soft and gentle voice that he'd only ever used on his parents.

"Luna, we're on the train headed to London. We won't arrive for hours." When no response came he added with strained enthusiasm, "It's almost Christmas! You'll get to see your dad! Doesn't that sound—"

A loud reverberating screech combined with a lurching stop of the train cut him off. Neville stumbled forward and grasped at a wall for support. Did the Carrows change their minds? Would they not allow the students to go home for the Holidays knowing that so few would return?

Everything suddenly darkened as if the sun been covered by a blanket, and he could only make out the shimmer of Luna's hair as she walked away from him, straight for the now opened door.

Black figures in shining masks swooped through onto the train and landed cat-like on their feet. Neville instantly recognized them as Death Eaters, his mind flashing back to the Ministry intrusion of his fifth year.

The men saw Luna standing before them and two of them sent stunners at her. She crumpled forward and someone picked her up and roughly tossed her over his shoulder.

"LUNA!" Neville screamed, and scrambled to his feet. But the instant he was on his feet, he was knocked down again by a figure shoving past him.

Based on the back of the familiar head, it was Draco Malfoy, this time lugging a suitcase. He quickly exchanged a few words with one of the masked men, then mounted a broom. Before Neville could hardly blink, the horde of them had disappeared again, Luna in tow, leaving only twirling spirals of snow in their wake.


	4. Courage

Chapter 4

"Oi! What was that about?" Nott accosted Draco. He was standing up aggressively when the slender figure, dusted in snowflakes, returned the compartment.

Draco didn't so much as look at the boy. Instead, he pushed past him and reached to the upper shelf and pulled down his trunk, which almost hit Nott on its decent. He had to dodge by falling back down onto the seat, almost sitting on top of Daphne.

"Lovegood was backing out, so I _imperiused _her to get her on the train," Draco lied flatly while putting on his cloak and fastening it.

Everyone in the compartment immediately accepted this as truth, for what other explanation could be possible? Of course, at first it seemed to those watching that Draco had perhaps wanted to prevent the Loony girl's capture, for some unknown reason. So, now that they didn't have to try to figure out why the stoic Malfoy would do something like that, there was all around relief.

Part of Draco's alpha status in the House of Slytherin was his knowledge of Legilimency, of which he was more a master at exaggerating than actually performing. However, his fooled peers had no doubt in their minds that Draco could have read Luna's mind from inside the compartment, and then rushed out to resolve the situation. And the fact that he would so casually perform an Unforgivable only served to enhance their awe of their sinister leader.

"Well, what are you doing now?" Nott asked, still a shadow of a challenging tone in his voice.

A flicker of a grin crossed Draco's face before he drew up the hood of his cloak and left the compartment.

"Taking a short cut," he answered mysteriously before closing the door and walking swiftly away, his trunk floating behind.

The train lurched to a stop not a minute later, almost knocking Draco to the ground. Everything went dark in an instant. He clutched the corner of the wall for support until the train was still. A cold wind blew across his hands, signifying the opening of the door on the other side of the wall.

Draco hastily opened his trunk and summoned forth the mask he'd been given in the summer. Not stopping to recognize the tremor in his hands, he placed the cold metal-like plate onto his face, allowing it to conform to his features. It was like stinging ice against his skin.

Next, he withdrew his broomstick, closed the trunk turned the corner in haste, approaching the open door.

He paused at a flash of light and for a moment he saw Luna standing ready in the entryway, wind and snow blowing her white-blonde hair in every direction. And then she fell down, and the light was gone.

"LUNA!" a voice shrieked, bringing Draco's attention to a staggering Longbottom fumbling for his wand. Draco rushed past him and as he did, his trunk bumped into the Gryffindor, causing him to fall back against the wall. Without a backward glance, Draco nodded at the remaining death eater, mounted his broom, and followed four others in flight out into the cold and wet sky.

* * *

While dark and confining quarters were not exactly what Luna had in mind for her Christmas vacation, she did find it immensely relieving to at least be away from the expansive Nargle infested grounds of Hogwarts. Here the space was small and much more manageable. Yes, Nargles thrived in dark places and she could feel them all around, but Luna knew she could make them leave. She just needed to be diligent.

When the bars were locked and the door at the top of the stairs closed and the light shut out, Luna wasted no time. Even before her eyes adjusted to the dark, she started pacing around, hand dragging along the wall to feel her way, whispering all sorts of Nargle-be-gone phrases.

"Good day! What a lovely patch of dirt! How interestingly shaped is this dungeon! What an exciting adventure this is!"

But "Happy Christmas!" was the one she repeated the most, as it was most effective. She clung to the joy of all her past Christmas memories as she said it. Nargles, she reasoned, must hate Christmas because she didn't remembered a single one whenever she had celebrated the feast in the past.

"Oh my, I've lost a boot," Luna discovered. She sat down to try to warm her bare foot with her hands, but her hands were just as frozen. She unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and tied it around her foot. Pleased with herself, she stuck her foot out to admire the makeshift boot.

A fierce cramp shot up her leg at the gesture, surprising Luna into little cry of pain. She struggled to stand back up, and as she did, her head and neck also revealed misery of its own.

"Ooo," she moaned, gripping her head where it throbbed. She reasoned that her neck must have gotten jostled on the journey over, and tenderly tested out its limits by rotating it around.

As she turned her head as far left as her neck would allow, Luna saw a puzzling concentration of Nargles. Her eyebrows twisted up and she automatically approached the group.

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!" she yelled, perhaps with a bit more frustration than happiness. Discovering her injuries and now a group of stubborn Nargles all in the space of a few minutes took its toll on her. Besides, she had just had the thought that maybe this would be her first Christmas shared with Nargles after all. And she didn't like that idea.

"Happy Christmas, Miss Lovegood," came a soft, gruff voice and through the darkness a pair of sad, shining eyes met Luna's.

"Mr. Ollivander!" Luna yelped joyfully. She crouched down and practically tackled the older man in a hug.

Mr. Ollivander goaned in pain, but managed a small chuckle as well.

"Yes, it's me. Your wand maker. How has the unicorn hair been?"

"Very excellent!" Luna gushed, then paused before adding, "They've taken it now, of course. Do you know where we are? It doesn't quite feel like I've imagined Azkaban to feel like."

Mr. Ollivander then shifted himself against the wall, wincing.

"No, not Azkaban. It's the basement of a house for sure. A large one judging by these support beams."

"Are you hurt?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I can't move much."

"Oh, that's just the Nargles. I'll get them off, don't worry."

The wand maker managed a half smile, then a whole one.

"And you don't worry about your wand, young lady. I've since discovered a trick to enhance the magical properties of Unicorn hair. If you rid me of the Nargles, I'll make you one."

Not realizing the ironic, disillusioned tone in the old man's voice, Luna nodded eagerly and settled into the wall beside him.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Ollivander."

"Happy Christmas, dear."

Over the next few weeks, Luna tried hard to focus on the three walls and the row of bars that now made up her world, and not to worry about Hogwarts. She also tried to focus on the old man and wand maker that shared her world, and not worry about her father, or Harry Potter, or... Draco Malfoy.

But she was acutely aware of the heavy load of Nargles that stalked about freely on the floor above them. They were the absolute worst kind of Nargles, she could just tell. They were the kind of Nargles that live the longest and grow the largest, yet somehow stay hidden from their hosts.

She shuddered just thinking about it, then sighed at her own growing load of the wretched beasts. After all, shuddering is one of the most obvious signs of Nargle existence! It is the unconscious effort to shake off the leeches. But her body ached miserably at the movement and she groaned. How was she to get rid of the Nargles if this random torture continued?

For the third time since her arrival, Bellatrix had wandered down to their cell and sent _crucios_ and other inventive curses at the two prisoners through the bars.

Slowly and painfully, Luna moved closer to where Mr. Ollivander was working on his wandless magic. She had no idea what his overall goal was, but she knew that magic itself often had a good enough vibe to get rid of Nargles. And as tired and weak as she was, that was about all she could manage at this point. His small glow of magic field radiated in the way a fire might, and thinking of the common room fireplace at Hogwarts, she fell asleep on the dirt floor.

* * *

Draco was his father's son. He always knew that, although what used to be the source of his pride and self-worth, now was quite the opposite. Since the rise of the Dark Lord, his father's true colors had started to show. The look of panic never left Lucius's face and he would stumble over his feet and then his words in order to hasten to attend every request made by the Dark Lord. Draco couldn't bear to watch his once commanding father turned into a slave. He would rather look at the walls around him, the walls of his beloved home which were the only things, barely, not destroyed. They would crumble soon enough.

Draco still loved his father. It hurt to seem him stepped upon by the other Death Eaters. But the respect and fear he once had for him was gone. Lucius, he knew now, was a coward.

And Draco was his father's son.

For the last few weeks, Draco hadn't dared to even approach the door of the dungeon, despite being keenly aware that Luna was down there. And it wasn't for lack of means. Draco thought of every way possible. During the nights he barely slept, preferring to pace about the room, lost in thought and worry. (A worry that Luna would have scolded, reminding him it attracts Nargles.)

He could take polyjuice potion and turn into the house elf who brings the prisoners food. But what if he was discovered? There would be no explaining it.

He could steal the key with a simple _Accio_ charm and sneak down there at night. But what if it were noticed? And of course, he couldn't free her. The Dark Lord would suspect a traitor and look into everyone's minds until he found reason to kill at least half his servants.

He could even just ask his Aunt Bellatrix for the key, telling her an easy lie about wanting to question or torture the prisoners. But he would draw attention to himself. He'd been trying to keep a low profile, hoping the Dark Lord would soon altogether forget that he was home to stay, not returning to Hogwarts.

But the Dark Lord would consistently ask for Draco to be sent to him. Every day Draco spent at least three hours in his presence. Sometimes just standing in the room, out of the Dark Lord's thoughts, but other times standing right before him, fighting with all his Occlumency training to make sure the Dark Lord only sensed loyalty from him, meanwhile taking commands and obeying.

And so Draco reserved his hatred for his time pacing in his bedroom. His home taken over, his father trampled underfoot, his total lack of freedom, the hypocrisy and cruelty of the half-blood snake-man, the devil incarnate, the powerful pretender, the...the _Nargle_…

Draco blinked at his choice of insult and his pace increased.

No, what truly angered him was Luna living in the dark and cold, directly under the ground he paced on. He could not shake the overwhelming feeling that it was horribly wrong for her to be there. To him, she had become the personified combination of lightness and freedom. How then is it even possible for her to be there?

Suddenly his feet stopped his body solidly in front of the door. He suddenly realized that this whole time it wasn't the Dark Lord so much that he was afraid of. It wasn't the unlikely chance of being discovered that he feared should he attempt to see Luna.

He was actually afraid of just that, of _seeing Luna_. The paradox of Luna in a cage was downright terrifying. This whole time he had been too coward to face a different Luna, one that may no longer be Nargle-free.

And while the thought still curled in his gut, he was no longer afraid of it. He opened the door and went out into the hall, straight to his Aunt's bedroom door, and knocked.

"What the bloody hell!?" Bellatrix hissed in the loudest whisper humanly possible, but when she opened the door and saw Draco, her brows of anger relaxed. Unlike her sister and that imbecile man she married, their son seemed to still be in the favor of Bellatrix's Lord and Master. She could make time for him.

Draco narrowed his eyes and sneered his lip slightly.

"Give me the key to the dungeon," he demanded, "I can't sleep."

The statement sounded perfectly normal to Bellatrix. Her mouth curled into a smile and she reached around her neck to pull over her head a chain with the attached key. She thrust it at him.

"Just played down their myself, couple hours ago," she said with what could be described as a twinkle in her eye, if her eyes weren't coal black. "I suppose I could share."

Draco nodded and stepped away from the door in a hurry.

"Oh Draco," she called after him, "don't worry about waking the Dark Lord. He likes the screams." She cackled and shut the door.

Draco gave no indication of having heard her, but his eyes stung at her words. Only hours ago Luna was tortured by his Aunt. Would she cower away from him now? Would she curse him and turn her back?

His courage failed him at that thought, but he had already turned the key and unlocked the door.


	5. If Nargles Could Talk

Chapter 5

The door creaked open softly and Draco stepped through onto the top step. Despite how dark it was in the outer room already, the staircase was cast in even more darkness once he closed the door. He slipped the key into his pocket and pulled out his wand. Carefully, he felt for the wall and was able to descend the steps without stumbling. He didn't want to light his wand just yet, in case he would startle Luna from sleep.

When he reached the bottom, his eyes were just enough adjusted to make out the row of iron bars in front of him. He reached out and felt the cold metal of it and shuddered, thinking of Luna trapped behind such coldness.

"Luna," he called, very softly.

"She's asleep," came a gruff, but also soft reply from Draco's left. He turned in that direction and saw a small and quick burst of light followed by several others. Drawn forward, Draco followed along the row of bars until he was directly across from the brief lights. He could now make out old hands moving above the source of the light, and then a scraggly face above that.

"Mr. Ollivander?" he asked. He'd had no idea the Dark Lord was keeping the wand maker in the dungeon and was thoroughly surprised.

"Shhh," the old man hushed him, but it was too late for Draco noticed a movement in the shadows at the man's side.

"What is it?" Luna's high pitched voice questioned, sounding altogether wearier than Draco had ever heard her. "Did you succeed with the wandless magic?"

"No, child. We have a visitor. Your _friend_, Mr. Malfoy," Ollivander answered. He seemed to emphasize the word "friend" and his eyes narrowed at Draco as if to somehow warn him against hurting Luna in any way.

"Draco?" Luna sat up slowly, leaning against the wall for support, and it was obvious she was in pain. Draco looked down, suddenly more ashamed than he'd ever felt around her.

"Here," he said, and she saw him before he looked back up at her.

"Hello!" she said and despite her exhausted voice, it sounded warm. "But I can barely see you. Do you have a wand?"

"I-yes."

"_Lumos, _please!" she requested.

For the first time in his entire life, Draco fumbled for his wand. He was so unprepared, completely untrained for this circumstance. For once, he felt he had no idea how to behave.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, and a soft glow lit up their immediate surroundings.

Luna immediately covered her eyes with her hands and Ollivander swore before turning away.

Draco stared at Luna through the bars for a few moments before he realized the light was causing them physical pain. Her hair was dark with dirt as was the rest of her, and he could only imagine the curses that had thrown her to the ground to writhe in pain. She just sat there cross legged, her hands over her eyes, but a smile on her cracked lips.

"No, no! Brighter!" she said, when Draco quickly undid the light charm.

"But...your eyes," he protested, though he obeyed and lit his wand again.

"They'll adjust. See, I'm already able to crack my fingers." And it was true, Luna was slowly spreading apart her fingers over closed eyes. It reminded him so much of a child that he almost smiled.

"Brighter!"

Draco hesitated, glancing at Ollivander who was now shading his eyes under his elbow.

"Do what she asks," the old man consented.

Draco did, slightly increasing the _lumos charm. _

Luna smiled.

"Remember the thestrals, Draco? The pink sunlight on their wings?"

The way she said it made him sure that she was seeing them now, behind her fingers.

"How-" and here he was going to ask how she could possibly think of that now, but thinking better of it he asked, "how are you?"

Her hands fell off her eyes but her eyes remained closed.

"Brighter, please." Draco obliged. "I am not doing so well, Draco. I expect the same for you, judging by those nasty Nargles you carried in here."

Her eyes opened and immediately landed on his, as if they had been directed at him the whole time. Seeing them as large and bright as he remembered, he sighed with relief. In fact, his relief was so great that he knelt down to the ground, holding the iron bars for extra support.

He hadn't realized how afraid he had been to see her eyes dulled until this moment.

"How did you get here, anyway?" she asked curiously, as though the peculiarity of it all genuinely just occurred to her .

"This is…" Draco paused, not knowing what to call the Manor now. "Well, this used to be my home." The sadness in his voice surprised him. He never thought of himself as particularly attached to the house.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Luna said, seeming to have grasped all she needed to know from that statement. He would be spared having to explain why she was a prisoner in Malfoy Manor, that the Dark Lord lived here, and that it is here that his life was tormented. She grasped it all. Still, it seemed wrong that she, a prisoner and victim of torture in his home, was apologizing to _him_. The rush of emotion he suddenly felt frustrated him more than anything. _He _was the one supposed to be comforting _her_. But what good could he do for her?

After a pause she asked, "Can you go brighter still? I want the Nargles in here to feel it."

"Feel what?"

"The light, of course."

Draco again enhanced the charm.

"What is it?" she asked, spotting the tears glistening in Draco's eyes.

"Nothing, I should… go," he stood up and paced in front of the bars a few times. He was fully conscious of Luna's eyes following him.

"How many are there? Is it bad?" he asked abruptly, hoping it would draw her out to speak of more _real_ things.

"Nargles? Oh," she waved her hand dismissively, "tons. I don't count. Nargles grow if you pay them too much attention. Like the ones I can hear lumbering around upstairs. I hope you still have the necklace I gave you."

Draco nodded and rubbed his hand over his face and paced again. He couldn't seem to reach her in the way she had reached him on the bank of the Black Lake. She was still herself, thank Merlin, but her pain was distant. The same Nargle belief that had brought him face to face with her wandering driftwood was now what kept him from connecting with her. How could he know how she truly was if she kept speaking of the imaginary creatures?

Draco paced a few more times, then got an idea.

"What do they say?" he asked, stopping and looking at her again,

"Who?"

"The Nargles that are here with you."

"Nargles can't talk," Luna said as though this was a well-known fact and so it was a curious question.

"Yes, but if they _could_, what would they say?" Draco insisted.

Luna gave a short laugh, and then her brows furrowed in concentration as though trying to solve a complex puzzle. Draco watched her expression change with concern, because slowly her eyes widened and filled with tears.

"Such terrible things. I cannot tell you," she whimpered. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees and Draco watched helplessly as slow sobs shook her shoulders. Mr. Ollivander laid his arm around her, but kept his head down, not saying anything. "Oh Draco, if Nargles could talk, there would be no point in fighting."

"No, Luna," Draco almost yelled. He collided painfully with the iron bars in a desperate attempt to reach her some how. He had wanted to reach her, not break her!

But then she sighed softly and sniffed.

"But they can't talk. _I _can. I just miss my dad. I'm so worried, he's all alone at Christmastime. How long will I be here in the cold and dark?" she shivered violently as she asked it, then added, "Everything hurts." Draco sat down again and reached his arm as far into the cell as the bars would allow. He held his hand out, palm upright.

"Luna," he called. And she looked up with wet eyes. She saw his hand and a small smile appeared. She stretched out her arm and laid her hand on his. "You won't stay here long. I promise."

And in that moment, he meant it, without a doubt.

"Thank you," she smiled, her face tear stained and yet her look was an expression of compassion, as if to say "I wish I could make you the same promise."

But they both knew he was even more trapped.

"Happy Christmas," she said instead.

And Draco didn't have the heart to tell her that it was already mid-February.

* * *

Bellatrix had never been as thrilled with a blood relative in her entire life as she was now with her nephew. Which, in all honesty wasn't saying that much, since she was disgusted with the lot of them as a general rule. But young Draco had, it seemed, developed a rather tasteful habit, and, despite the hour he would come knocking for the key, Bellatrix was glad to see him developing a skill pleasing to the Dark Lord. In the last several weeks, Draco had made at least five late night trips to the dungeon to release tension, and it showed. He was smoother in the presence of the Dark Lord. (Not that he was ever such a blumbering fool as his useless father.) Since his dungeon trips, Bellatrix was pleased to notice her nephew showed little fear.

Though her Lord, no doubt, _was _to be feared, but he was also in need of servants who could hold themselves together and be worthy of such an honor as serving him. Of course, she herself filled that role, but it seemed to Bellatrix that her nephew may also be becoming what the Dark Lord needed. And this pleased her greatly.

She took to doting on the young man whenever before the Dark Lord. She called him "dear Draco" or "Nephew" so that the Dark Lord would not forget their connection. She even dropped hints about how Draco was spending his sleepless nights, in hopes of impressing the Dark Lord even further with Draco's fervor to inflict suffering on the unworthy.

One thing about him did displease her, though. He didn't speak to the Dark Lord unless spoken to, and didn't offer any forms of worship. For this she blamed Severus Snape, who seemed to adopt the same stiff attitude towards her beloved master. Strangely, the Dark Lord didn't seem bothered by this, but perhaps that was because Bellatrix made sure to do her best to make up for the lack of worship by loudly adoring him all that much more. Ungrateful followers, how dare they call themselves Death Eaters!?

Draco did not last long in Bellatrix's favor. In fact, it was only a few weeks before she only saw red flames where Draco was concerned. Traitor!

It was at the most inopportune moment that Draco chose to fail her. Victory was at hand! Potter, of all people, was captured! Bellatrix could already hear the praise she would get from the Dark Lord upon his return. She was absolutely ecstatic. All that needed to be done before the Dark Lord was summoned was to confirm Potter's identity, for the bastard had a curse bloating his face into an unrecognizable shape. But Bellatrix saw it! She saw the cursed scar! It was him!

And yet caution was needed and she restrained herself, CURSE IT ALL! and waited for Draco, as a schoolmate, to confirm. When Draco came, he stared hard at the idiot boy, and at last said,

"I can't be sure."

"What do you MEAN!?" Bellatrix exploded. "Of course it's him!"

But Draco repeated himself and would not back down.

Enraged, Bellatrix was overruled. The Dark Lord could not be summoned yet, and all she could do while she waited was torment the filthy Granger mudblood. The girl's screams were never quite loud enough to match the fury Bellatrix felt towards her worthless nephew.


End file.
